The Ties That Bind Us
by plenoptic
Summary: Memories bind us forever, and the ties between brothers will never fade. But as Optimus and Megatron grow up, will they grow apart? Scheduled for rewrite Winter 2010
1. Chapter 1

**The Ties That Bind Us**

**Chapter One**

_Plenoptic _

**This story came to me out of the blue. One would think my imagination would get tired after writing all day, but no. This will be a major break from my romance streak, and will be published in large parts over long periods of time. This focuses on Megatron and Optimus, brothers that they are. Where did things go wrong? Please enjoy, please review, in that order.**

**Note: This takes place years and years and years and YEARS before the events of TF:TM, during a time during which Ironhide, Magnus, Kup, Prowl, and Ratchet were all young officers within the Autobot ranks. And I realize that yes, at this time there were no Decepticons, but I'm using rebel forces as substitutes. Hope you understand, please and thank you.**

. B E G I N . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

The youngling stirred very slightly in his sleep. His cerebral processor had begun to play back dreams more and more often lately, occupying his hours in recharge and haunting the hours he spent awake. What these dreams meant the poor little creature couldn't piece together; they showed light suddenly plunging into darkness, a laugh turning to a sob, one breaking into two. As hard as he tried he could not explain these dreams rationally to any of his caretakers, and they all worried about the youngling. He was fragile as it was, small for his age, and such trauma during the time he was supposed to spend resting couldn't be good for the little one. Ironhide in particular seemed disgruntled by it; he and the child had been close ever since the youngling's creation, though the gruff weapons officer would never admit to his affection openly—not that it wasn't obvious anyway.

In truth, the entire military feared for the youngling. He was precious, one of the few living younglings amidst the battle-scarred planet. The rebel forces were increasing in strength, desperate to overthrow the High Council, desperate to place Cybertron under different rule.

That youngling alone could bring balance. That youngling alone could bring peace.

He whimpered and rolled restlessly over onto his side, his small fingers clutching at the flat surface of his recharge bed. In his dream, he was falling. It seemed an immeasurably long distance to the ground, then he realized he was falling upwards. How? How did one fall upwards? _What about gravity? _the youngling wondered, even in his unconscious state. _You can't fall up!_ Suddenly he wasn't falling up, he struck the ground and moments before the pain hit he awoke.

He cried out. He hadn't meant to; he tried desperately to quiet his own voice, but another cry followed the first, slowly developing into shaky, almost silent sobs. The youngling clutched his head, his Spark clenching painfully. It was so confusing! The dreams of falling up and hitting the ground, the dreams where the sun was black and the moons shone on their own, the nightmares where some indomitable, awful evil threatened to collapse upon him…no, no….it was too much, too much…!

"Shhh…it's okay, lil' one. Ah'm here. It's okay…"

Giant arms lifted him up, his small body pulled and cuddled into a huge chassis. His own childish instincts took over and he buried himself in Ironhide's embrace, searching for and finding the warmth of his giant guardian's mighty Spark. Getting a hold of himself, he felt his faceplates redden with embarrassment; he was barely out of his sparklinghood, yes, but he was, in his mind, too old to be coddled.

"I'm okay," he sniffled, trying to pull away, but Ironhide's grip only tightened, suspending the youngling to his chest.

"No, yer not," Ironhide growled, rocking back and forth slightly in an effort to calm the little one's squirming. "Settle down. Ya had anothah nightmare, didn' ya?"

The youngling froze, and Ironhide felt the small head bob up and down against his chest. "But I'm okay now. It was nothing."

The giant mech sighed and ran gentle fingers down the youngling's back, a low hum purring within his chassis. The child relaxed slightly, soothed by his guardian's touch. "Hey. Listen ta me, lil' one. Yer just a kid. Ya don' have ta take on all th' pain by yerself. It's okay. Ah'm here for ya. Ya don' have ta be so strong, Optimus."

The youngling curled into a tight ball against the warm chassis, his small sobs escalating slightly. "I was so scared. I was _so scared!_ I was falling up…I was falling into the sky, then I hit the ground. It was…how do you fall up? _How? _It's not…what about _gravity?_ What about the _laws of attraction_?"

Ironhide laughed, knowing full well that his levity was out of place. "Optimus, ya're th' only youngling in th' slaggin' universe who worries abou' th' laws o' attraction."

"They're important!" Optimus argued indignantly, turning his bright blue optics upwards to glare reproachfully up at his guardian. "If we didn't have gravity, we'd all fly off into space and…" he trailed off, and his optics widened very slightly at the thought of drifting helplessly into space. Seeing the momentary alarm, Ironhide wiped the tears from the youngling's face, his thumb caressing his cheek gently.

"Ah'll have ta talk ta Ratchet abou' wha' he tells ya," the trigger-happy mech said softly. "Scarin' ya like tha'…"

Optimus pressed his small face back into Ironhide's chest, instinctively curling into a tight ball. The giant mech hugged the youngling, allowing the warmth of his Spark to seep into Optimus's small body. It never ceased to amaze the weapons officer how fragile Optimus truly was; how small, how delicate, how weak, how easily he could be broken. That such a feeble creature could have such an impact on headquarters was incredible. From the time he was a sparkling every mech on base had been charmed, even touched by the child's sincere efforts at making peace, at growing stronger. And for those select few Optimus came into regular contact with, he was as much a part of their Sparks as the military itself. He was precious, a living blessing. He was loved, even adored by the usually gruff Autobot officers. He was coddled by the few femmes on base, but seemed to prefer tagging along with the mechs on all of their ventures about headquarters.

He was usually so happy, so energetic, despite his unstable condition. The smile never faded from his faceplates…except on nights like this, when all lights were out and the darkness was allowed to pervade the deepest corners of his mind.

"Why me?" Optimus whispered, his tiny voice shaking as he spoke. "Why _me? _Why…why do I dream like this, Ironhide? Why?"

Ironhide sighed, resuming his rocking motion. "Ah guess Primus jus' has yer numbah, lil' guy."

"…Guess so," the youngling mumbled, his optics feeling heavy once more. It was so warm…wrapped in Ironhide's colossal arms, he felt so safe…he didn't have to be strong…not yet…

Not yet…

_**Med bay**_

"Hey, Ratchet. I think I'm taller now."

The medic looked up and smiled at the youngling seated across from the med bay table. Optimus grinned widely. "I mean it. I think I've gotten taller."

"In the past two days? Well, aren't you an amazing little mech."

"C'mon, will you measure me?"

"I don't think even your skeletal makeup grows that fast, Optimus. It takes time, little one."

The youngling sighed heavily and rested his chin on the steel surface. "Fine. I guess I'll just have to go for another few weeks wondering if I'm any closer to growing taller than Ironhide. I guess I'll just have to spend the next few weeks wondering, wondering, if I'm really getting any better. I guess I'll grow up and remember Ratchet, who deprived me of the _one thing_ I ever, ever asked from him. I guess…"

"Alright, cut the theatrics," Ratchet sighed, rolling his optics. "Butt to the wall, I'll measure you."

With a squeal of delight Optimus leapt from his seat and stood soldier-straight against the med bay wall, just next to the door. The wall was lined with scratch marks, each one a record of another inch or so on the youngling's small frame. Ratchet bent down on one knee—even in such a position he was much taller than Optimus—and frowned slightly. Of course two days wasn't enough for a sickly young mech to grow even a centimeter. Optimus's head met the previous scratch mark exactly. Biting his lower lip, Ratchet made a mark an inch higher; if there was anything the little bot needed now, it was a victory, not another disappointment.

"Look at that," Ratchet said, smiling as Optimus stepped away and spun around to look at the wall. "Another inch. You really are an amazing youngling."

"I grew!" Optimus said, his little face lighting up. "I actually grew! Hey, Ratch—maybe I'm really getting better, huh?"

The medic looked down at the tiny mech, looked down at the bright, hopeful blue optics. Optimus was far too small to be fitted into armor; splashes of red and blue hid amongst the mess of wires that made up his body. Plates had begun to form along his chest and thighs, and the wires had strengthened into cords along his shoulders. Once out of sparklinghood most mechs were ready to be fitted for armor, but the youngling before him was years and years behind. Whether it was a glitch in his system or some strange illness Ratchet had no way of knowing. Lost in his thoughts, he absently ran gentle fingers down the side of Optimus's soft faceplates, his optics darkening slightly. Optimus caught his older friend's large hand in his own tiny grip, his face crossed with worry.

"Ratchet?"

The medic snapped out of his reverie, brought back by the child's tentative plea. "Hm? Oh, sorry, sorry…well then. What are you up to?" he asked, standing and going back to his med table. Optimus followed him loyally, a bounce in his step.

"Ironhide says I can go to the shooting range with him," the youngling said proudly, squirming back into his seat. "I only get to watch, though," he added quickly as Ratchet released a low growl at Ironhide's irresponsibility. "Iron's not so careless to let me hold a gun yet." There was a touch of resent in the small voice, and the medic smirked.

"Don't be so eager to pull the trigger, my friend. It's a dangerous, dangerous thing. And don't let that trigger-happy drone tell you otherwise," he said, poking the little mech's stomach and smiling in satisfaction at the delighted giggle it ensued. "Where's your brother?"

Optimus shrugged. "I dunno. I haven't seen him in a few days."

Ratchet frowned; the sparkling rarely left his older brother's side. "Who do you suppose he's with?"

"I'll bet Magnus has him," Optimus replied, bending over to tinker with a strange, whirring piece of equipment. "I think Megatron likes him best."

Ratchet nodded thoughtfully; the quiet little mech did have a tendency to tail the senior warrior. Ultra Magnus never seemed to mind. On the contrary, he quite enjoyed the company.

Megatron. Still a sparkling, but already the pride and joy of the military. Unlike his older brother, he was ahead of his development schedule; in a few years he'd be ready for armor. The little mech was intelligent if quiet, a deep thinker, but certainly not modest. The sparkling had the annoying habit of relapsing from his silence and boasting loudly if he made a great accomplishment. Most of his talk was garbled, as his voice transmitter was not yet fully developed, but it was obvious he was expecting praise once that little mouth got going. His incessant bragging was enough to drive even the patient Sentinel Prime up the wall, and the best of mechs couldn't keep the sparkling quiet.

Only Optimus could ever get Megatron to shut up. A gentle "hush" was all that was required, a raise of the optic ridges, and the sparkling's jaw snapped shut. The brothers were close, they always had been, and at times Ratchet wondered just how close they really were. It was as though they could communicate without speaking; it was as though they could sense the other's presense even if they were a hundred miles apart. At times Optimus would leap from his perch in Ratchet's med bay and charge down hallway after hallway to some secluded part of base to find Megatron trapped under something or other, having played where he shouldn't have. The few times this occurred had been very serious indeed; developed as he was a sparkling was still a sparkling, and sparklings don't do well when crushed beneath a few hundred pounds of steel supplies. Optimus's "feelings" of his brother's status had more than once saved Megatron's life.

Of course, the favor was returned both ways. On several occasions Megatron had woken the older mechs, insisting that something was wrong with his older brother; indeed, when a disgruntled Ironhide or Ratchet was dragged out of recharge it was to find a writhing Optimus in a traumatized fit, nightmares pulsing through his small mind. Ratchet knew enough about younglings to deem that recurring, intense terror wasn't good for the cerebral processors…Megatron's equal "feelings" for his brother had more than once saved Optimus's very sanity.

The little mechs were special, undoubtedly. There was something about them. Primus seemed to have _both _their numbers.

"I'm gonna go find him," Optimus said abruptly, sliding from his seat. "I found something cool yesterday, I want him to see…"

"Optimus?" Ratchet said worriedly, peering after him. "Hey, Optimus! What is it? Optimus!"

But the youngling was out the door.

"Brother…w-wait…"

Optimus turned and sighed impatiently. "You're so _slow_, Megatron. Move your aft."

Megatron's bright blue optics widened. "Y-You said a bad word."

"So what, are you gonna tell on me? Just move a bit faster, okay?"

Megatron's lower lip trembled slightly, but he quickened his pace, struggling to keep up with his older brother. Optimus turned and felt a slight twinge of regret; sparklings kinda _did_ have little legs. With a sigh, he extended his hand, which Megatron took gratefully, his small fingers closing tentatively around his brother's.

"Trust me," Optimus whispered, a smile lifting his lips. "It's worth it."

The sparkling's optics brightened; his brother was good at finding interesting little pieces of history lying around base. They'd once found a chamber below Ratchet's med bay containing living core Sparks, each perfectly preserved within a translucent plexisteel case. When they leaned close, both sparklings swore they heard the Sparks whispering their names; it had scared them so badly they'd both run out in hysteric tears, but had gone back nearly every day for weeks afterwards just to hear their ancestors speak as if they knew them.

"Hey, we're here," Optimus said quietly, releasing his brother's hand as they approached a tall steel door. Megatron frowned; there was a digit pad high above their heads.

"How do we get in?" he asked anxiously, tugging Optimus's fingers. "Brother?"

"You gotta climb on my shoulders," Optimus instructed. "I know the password, I saw Prowl put it in once."

Megatron's optics widened. "You memorized it?"

"Yup," Optimus said proudly, tapping his head. "It's all up here. Hurry, climb up, it's _cool_. Go on!"

He crouched down, and the sparkling tentatively placed a foot on each of his brother's shoulders, his legs trembling. Optimus stood slowly, his hands supporting Megatron's ankles to help the little mech keep his balance.

"I don't know about this," Megatron moaned nervously. "Optimus…"

"Shhh, it'll be okay," the youngling coaxed. "Listen, ready to put in the combo?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay, listen up. It's five…two…seven five one zero…"

"Huh?"

After several tries and much groaning, the digit pad beeped and a monotone announced that the doors were unlocked. Megatron climbed hurriedly from his brother's shoulders; Optimus was already pushing against the door.

"Help me, don't just stand there!" he grunted, pushing his shoulder against the door. "You're stronger than me…"

Megatron hurried forward, pressing the palms of his hands against the steel; with much grunting and more groaning yet the door swung open enough to admit them both enough room to squeeze through. Once inside, Optimus grinned proudly and pointed; Megatron followed his brother's finger and gasped.

It was a mech. He was huge, _giant_, and perfectly still. Wires ran from various circuit openings in his arms and legs, but his optics were offline and his head was bowed.

"He's in terminal lock," Optimus whispered, clutching his brother's hand. "Isn't he cool? Wonder who he is…"

Megatron shook his head wordlessly, curling his shoulders inward as Optimus led him forward. "I-I don't like it here…brother, let's go back…"

"Aw, quit being such a baby…we might not get to come back…ha ha, he's got a beard…" Optimus sniggered and walked right up to offline mech. He reached out with small fingers and lightly brushed the bot's foot. He and Megatron both cried out as the foot twitched; there was a whir, and the optics flickered online. They backed into the wall, Megatron's face torn with terror and Optimus's with wonder. The giant mech's lips moved, and after a few failed attempts a gravely rasp was emitted.

"Optimus…you've grown."

The smile slipped from the youngling's face like a drop of energon off of steel. _He knows my name._ He reached instinctively for the door, pulled his younger brother protectively behind him; Megatron had begun to cry. Optimus hushed him quickly, but the sniffling continued. "Brother, I'm _scared…_"

"Optimus," the mech said hoarsely, and the youngling jumped, panic wracking his Spark. _Gotta get Megatron away…_ "No…do not be afraid, little one. You needn't be afraid…not of me. Come here…"

He stretched out a giant hand, and Optimus had the sudden, crazy urge to run forward, to be cradled in the mech's huge chassis… he heard Megatron squeal, felt little arms clench around his waist with a whispered "_No!" _but before the youngling had moved two steps a voice erupted from the door.

"Trion! No! Optimus, you stay where you are!"

Three heads snapped around, and relief swept through Megatron. Sentinel Prime stood in the doorway, flanked by Ironhide and Ultra Magnus. The Autobot commander's optics were alive with fury, his face contorted with anger. Optimus blinked, confused by his father-figure's hostility. There was no time to ponder it further, however, for the next moment he was swept into Ironhide's strong arms, cradled against his guardian's chest. Megatron was similarly lifted by Magnus, though was much more compliant.

"Yer ah lil' trouble maker, ya know tha'?" Ironhide growled, embracing the struggling youngling tightly. "Primus, Ah was worried 'bout ya…don' do tha' ta me ever again, ya hear?"

Optimus stopped his squirming to look up at Ironhide's somber face, and confusion tugged at his Spark. "Iron…what'd I do?"

The weapons officer shook his head, stroking the small face looking so angelically up at him. "Nah, don' worry 'bout it…c'mon, we're leavin'," he added, shooting a reproachful glare at the mech across the room. Optimus began to argue but at a single cold glance from Sentinel fell silent. He pressed tight against Ironhide's chassis, reveling in the warmth of his guardian's Spark. He felt, in the back of his own, a tentative touch; Megatron reaching out, searching for his older brother's reassurance, which Optimus was only too happy to give.

The door swung shut, hiding Trion and Sentinel from view.

. E N D . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

**Aaaah, so nice to have chapter one done…. it took me an awfully long time to finish, truthfully. It's actually quite fun, writing about a young Megatron… I spend many math periods wondering about his and Optimus's relationship before war tore them apart.**

**I must add, for those of you who aren't familiar with him, that in the comic series Sentinel Prime was Optimus's predecessor and idol. He's much like Optimus as an adult, so if you need help picturing his character picture our favorite femme magnet. I believe Sentinel was killed by Megatron…oooh, wouldn't THAT be an interesting turn of events…well, in the meantime, please enjoy, please review, in that order.**

_Plenoptic_


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_Plenoptic _

**Disclaimer: Funny, I've been forgetting to add these. Do we really need to? Well, anyway. I don't own Transformers or any related titles or subjects…all that's mine in here is the plotline, and even that's had some help. It all belongs to Dreamwave and Hasbro and what not…anyway.**

**Aw, an Optimus with nightmares…doesn't it just break the heart?**

**I realize Magnus is more associated with being Optimus's big brother, but for the sake of this fic his attention has been diverted elsewhere. And I kind of like the idea. Please enjoy, please review, in that order.**

. B E G I N . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

Ultra Magnus shifted the sleeping sparkling in his lap, his fingers stroking the tiny creature's head lightly. Megatron stirred but did not wake. He'd been up late, pestering Magnus with questions about the mysterious mech he and his brother had discovered deep beneath headquarters. And Magnus had been up late relentlessly not answering. He was sure if he told the sparkling the information would reach his brother the very next day, and Optimus wasn't to know about Alpha Trion.

Not yet.

The door opened, and Magnus looked up to see Sentinel Prime enter, his face crossed with fading anger.

"Sir…sorry, I'd stand, but…" he indicated the sleeping child, and Prime smiled faintly.

"You didn't tell him?"

"No, sir."

"Good," Sentinel sighed, taking a seat across from Magnus's desk. "Primus help me…_how _did Optimus manage to wake him from terminal lock? It makes no sense…no sense at all…"

"You haven't told me why Trion's down there to begin with, sir," Magnus said quietly, his optic ridges raised. "Is there a story?"

Sentinel groaned. "Yes, Magnus, a long one. I promise I will divulge it to you sometime, but…now is not the time. There are some secrets better sat on. But…" his face darkened, his optics stormy.

"It's got something to do with Optimus, hasn't it?" Magnus asked, his voice tense. He was quite fond of the youngling; it was rare to see that much energy, that much hope, in anyone nowadays.

"Trion's the reason Optimus is ill," Sentinel said, his voice low and his voice slightly murderous. "He's the reason his systems are so unstable, why his development is so slow…and I can't forgive him for that."

Magnus nodded wordlessly; he was well aware of Optimus's precautious condition. It was a constant fear amongst his caretakers that they were going to walk into the room one day to find the youngling dead upon his recharge bed. The very thought of it sent shivers down Magnus's spinal ganglions; the pain of seeing that lifeless little body would be devastating. As far as he knew, Optimus was one of the first sparklings created without the Spark of a femme…and if he wasn't, his mother was long dead. The chipper youngling had never seemed bothered by it; he had Ironhide and Ratchet and occasionally he had Sentinel, though his "father" was often away beating down the rebels. In spite of his absence Optimus loved Sentinel deeply—the commander was the only father he'd ever known, the only father he would ever know.

The feelings were not one sided. Upon returning from his missions the first thing the giant mech ever did was rush upstairs and sweep the youngling into his massive arms. There was so much life in that frail little body, so much hope in those bright optics… just looking at his child made Sentinel's Spark clench. It was a wonder he'd ever gotten by before Optimus had come along; looking back on it his life seemed dark and bleak without the youngling to brighten his horizons.

Yes, the youngling was precious. He was something beautiful, something to be protected and treasured, and the powerful commander did a very good job of both.

"I'll take him upstairs," Sentinel offered, opening his arms. Magnus stood carefully and slipped Megatron into the commander's secure embrace; the sparkling stirred and whimpered but still did not wake, quickly finding the warmth of Sentinel's Spark.

"They're so different," Sentinel murmured, snuggling the child into his huge chassis. "Hard to believe they're of the same Spark."

"Indeed."

"…Did you know there was another?"

"Sir?"

"Alpha Trion created another," Sentinel said soflty, his optics flashing as the name rolled off his lips. "A femme. She's not Optimus and Megatron's sibling, don't worry… she's from another Spark. He called her Elita, I believe…I've yet to track her down." He sighed heavily, closing off his optics. "I gleaned something from my interrogation of Trion last night. He admitted to making Optimus and Elita's Sparks compatible."

Magnus stared, his jaw open. "Y-You mean to say…Optimus has himself a sparkmate out there somewhere?"

"Somewhere," Sentinel murmured, stroking Megatron's soft faceplates. "Somewhere…she's younger than him, probably still a sparkling. Primus, who knows where she's at? After her creation, Trion…" his face darkened, and he shook his head. "No. That's a whole different story…right now I need to get this little one up to bed. Good night, Magnus."

"…Good night, sir."

_**Rec Room**_

Optimus stared numbly at the projector screen, the images flashing across his optics as they drifted on and offline. Ironhide smiled and held the youngling close, pressing his lips to his protégé's head. "Close yer optics, Optimus. Ah'll take ya upstairs if ya fall asleep."

"I'm not tired…" Optimus mumbled, and drifted into recharge. Ironhide chuckled and rocked the youngling, his voice murmuring soothing words into the child's audio receptors. Optimus's body relaxed as he fell into his deeper recharge cycle; he was exhausted.

"Hard to believe something that innocent is gonna be blasting heads off someday," Ratchet said quietly, his optics warm with affection as he watched the sleeping youngling.

"He won', if Ah can help it," Ironhide growled almost savagely. "Not Optimus. Jus' because he's growin' up on base doesn' make him ah soldier. Th' boy's got ah good head on 'is shouldahs…he should be ah scientist or somethin'…"

"But he's programmed to fight, Ironhide," Ratchet said soflty, but the image of it made his shudder. Those gentle lips, usually lifted in a smile, drawn into an angry snarl…the sensitive optics hard and cold…the fragile body riddled with battle scars… the cheerful voice, so commonly echoing giggles and nonsensical chatter, warped into a cry of pain… the warm, bubbly Spark trapped beneath layers and layers of ice…Ratchet wrapped his arms around his abdomen, suddenly feeling very sick. "Ironhide…can I hold him?"

The weapons officer nodded wordlessly, moving over on the couch to slip the youngling into the medic's waiting arms. Ratchet shifted Optimus against his chest; the would-be soldier mumbled something and grimaced, his fingers fluttering over Ratchet's breastplates.

"Have his nightmares gotten any less frequent?" Ratchet asked quietly, stroking Optimus's face to calm him.

"Somewhat," Ironhide replied, reaching out and slipping his hand into Optimus's; tiny fingers closed over one of his large ones. "Th' poor lil' guy. Ratch, wha're we gonna do when he's all grown? Ah'm not gonna be able ta call 'im 'sir'…"

Ratchet shook his head wordlessly. It really was going to be hard, taking orders from the very mech he now cradled in his arms. Optimus was going to grow, that much was unchangeable. But that didn't mean the medic wanted him to. Optimus was going to grow, and he was going to become a killer. Ratchet shuddered. Oh, no. _No. _Not his youngling…not Optimus…

Primus have mercy, _not Optimus._

The youngling's optics flew online, a scream escaped his lips. There was no restraint; the terror was there, wild on his face, rampant in his voice. Ratchet and Ironhide both jumped badly, and every mech in the recreation room turned, alerted to the little one as the youngling thrashed wildly in Ratchet's arms, sobbing. The medic handed him quickly off to Ironhide, who proceeded to attempt to calm the flailing little mech.

But Optimus was beyond comfort. This was terror. This was sheer, choking fear, the kind that clenched one's Spark as if in fingers sheathed in ice. Optimus's hysteric cries tore Ironhide apart; with a soft moan he pulled the youngling close, rocking the child in his massive arms.

"Nooooo….Nooooo! He's coming!" Optimus sobbed wildly, though his thrashings had ceased somewhat. "Don't let him—no—he's coming—_he's gonna kill me!_"

Ironhide and Ratchet looked at each other, dumbstruck. Optimus's sobs quieted to whimpers, his small fingers scrabbling on Ironhide's chest.

"_He'll kill me,_" the youngling whispered, bright blue fluid leaking from his optics as he pressed desperately against his guardian's chassis. "_He'll kill me…he'll kill me…_"

The nightmares didn't stop. For the next week exactly, Ironhide was forced out of his recharge cycle every night to rush up and comfort the hysteric youngling. And every night it was the same mantra…_ "He'll kill me, he'll kill me…"_

It was awful. It was Pit-slagging, Primus-forsaken awful. Optimus's pitiful cries echoed throughout headquarters' many hallways, tore at the many Sparks. But none more so than at Ironhide's. After the week had passed the youngling refused to recharge. He lay awake long hours into the night, wrapped in his guardian's arms, trembling at every little sound, crying out at every movement in the dark.

"No one's here," Ironhide whispered one evening, as Optimus collapsed into weak sobs once more. "Optimus, listen ta me. Ah won' let anyone at ya, ya here? No one's gonna hurt ya, Ah promise…"

"When I get bigger," Optimus whispered, his small fists clenching on Ironhide's abdomen. "When I get bigger…he's gonna kill me."

Ironhide shook his head, rocking the youngling in his arms. "No, no, no…when ya get bigger Ah'm still gonna be righ' here. Ah'm gonna be here, Optimus…"

"…Promise?"

"Ah promise," Ironhide whispered. He didn't care. Optimus could get as big as he wanted. If he was scared, Ironhide was gonna hold him all the same.

"…Ironhide."

"Yea?"

"Someday, I'm gonna be taller than you," Optimus whispered, and fell asleep.

_**Optimus's Quarters**_

"Hey."

"What is it?"

"…How long?"

Optimus turned his head, frowning slightly. "How long what?"

Megatron shifted on the recharge bed. Upon hearing his brother's wails the previous night he'd hurried upstairs and clambered in, allowing Optimus to use him as a security blanket for the long hours of darkness that still remained. It had worked; with his brother snuggled against his side, Optimus had fallen once more into deep recharge.

"How long are we gonna be together?"

Optimus blinked and rolled over so he faced his brother fully. "We're brothers," he said firmly, his optics confident. "We'll stick together."

"But how long?" Megatron pressed, urgency in his voice.

"Forever," Optimus whispered, clutching his brother's hand. "Let's stay together forever."

"You promise?"

"I swear."

"Me too." Megatron's optics went offline, reassured by his brother's words. With a sigh Optimus snuggled closer, the younger mech's Spark quiet and reassuring. He allowed his optics to go offline.

Last night had involved one dream. And one nightmare. He pulled his thoughts away from the latter, focusing on the former. It hadn't been so bad. Not bad at all. He'd seen a femme. He couldn't remember her face exactly, what she had looked like, but the mere thought of her made his Spark pound in a rather pleasing way. She'd smiled at him; not the way Ironhide or Megatron smiled at him. A different smile. She didn't see him like his friends did; somehow, in this dream, she saw him differently. She'd taken his hand, but not the way Megatron did. She didn't want to hold his hand for comfort. She'd just wanted to hold his hand.

And she'd said his name. He'd always been sort of proud of it; it was a really, really good name. But it had sounded extra special coming from the femme; coupled with that smile, with the warmth of her touch, it made his faceplates redden.

Not a bad dream at all…

. E N D . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

**This chapter was shorter than the other, I know, by like a lot. But just bear with me, I'm very wrapped up in New Beginnings and am desperately trying to finish it satisfactorily so I can finish THIS one and move on to bigger things...(evil laugh)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_Plenoptic _

**Chapter three is here! … Okay, I guess I'm done. Kidding. I had the worst time with this chapter...I couldn't for the life of me remember how to edit it once it's been put into the story. In the end I revereted it to its document form and edited it there. Ugh. I'm so technology illiterate it's not even funny. One thing—I do use the word child, but that's just so my usage of youngling and sparkling doesn't get repetitive. Please enjoy, please review, in that order. (Oh, and thanks for the reviews on chapters one and two.)**

**NOTE: New Beginnings may not be updated for a while. For some reason the floppy disk on which all the chapters are stored can't be read by my computer…so I'm working to get that sorted out. Anyway, chapters ten and eleven are already complete, it'll just be a few days before they're up. Sorry for the inconvenience.**

**NOTE 2: Avalon is also the name of a traitorous council member from the Dreamwave comics "Transformers Energon" series. But hey, it's eight o' clock and I'm tired, so I couldn't think of anything better. So I'm recycling. Deal with it. **

**NOTE 3: (Just bear with me, okay?) I had the hardest time figuring out how tall to make Optimus for the latter part of this chapter, as far as where he came on Ironhide. I must've changed it at least five times…ugh. But I'm pretty sure I got it right…**

. B E G I N . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

"Aaaaah…! Ratchet—nooooo!"

"Just hold still, I'll be done in a second…"

"No, no, no, please, someone stop him! Aaaaaaah!"

"Qui'cher whinin', Optimus, jus' let 'im get it done…"

"Waaah! He'll kill me!"

"Oh, that's ridiculous."

Ironhide sighed as the youngling attempted to claw his way off of the med bay recharge bed. He should've seen this coming—all kids reacted the same when it came down to exhaust flushes, but Optimus was an especially unique case. Just because he had to have them done more frequently than most younglings didn't make him any more trusting to them. Ratchet sticking cleaning swabs up his tailpipe was not a fun thing. Ratchet sticking magnet rods up his tailpipe to attract any shrapnel was an even less fun thing. Ratchet laughing and at the same time telling you he was almost a fourth of the way done was pure torture.

"Please don't let him do it," Optimus begged as the medic resorted to drastic measures, strapping the youngling down in steel clamps. "Ironhide…pleeeease…"

"Sorry, kid," Ironhide said sympathetically, taking Optimus's hand. "Ah'll be righ' here, okay?"

The youngling's lower lip trembled as Ratchet took out his magnet rod.

Rec Room 

Optimus sniffled theatrically as Ironhide somewhat lazily swept the coolant tube back and forth across the youngling's butt, sending the cold mist breezing across the sore armor. Passing mechs winced, nodding their sympathy; Ratchet's exhaust flushes were not fun. But at least the coolant tubes never got dusty. Those jets of cold air were just the ticket after having that stupid rod stuck up your tailpipe for a half hour.

"Bettah?" Ironhide asked, glancing down at the youngling.

"Maybe," Optimus grumbled, glaring as the door opened and Ratchet entered.

The medic grinned and took a seat next to youngling, patting his head affectionately. "How's the butt feeling?"

"It hurts," Optimus complained, scowling up at his guardian. "How come I gotta do so many of those, Ratch?"

"Because if you didn't, your waste disposal systems would get backed up, and then where would we be?" Ratchet snorted, waving Ironhide's tube away and scooping the youngling onto his lap. "You'd be in worse pain than you are now, I can assure you of that."

"Megs is next week, right?" Magnus asked, plopping down next to Ironhide and kicking his feet up on the table, bottle in hand.

"Yes. And that had better not be out of the stash, Magnus."

"It's not," Magnus said innocently, but grimaced at Ironhide when Ratchet looked away. "Oh, look—speak of the drone. What's up, Meggy?"

The sparkling scowled as he entered, cradled in the arms of one of the base's few femmes. "It's _Megatron._"

"What's wrong with Meggy?"

"Megatron sounds cooler, duh," Optimus cut in, making a face. "Oh, hey—Chromia Chromia Chromia!"

"What what what?" she teased, turning before she headed out the door.

"I grew this morning! Ratchet measured me after my exhaust flush today! And I'm bigger, I grew by like, two inches!"

Chromia cocked an optic ridge at the medic, who shrugged helplessly. Optimus had been at the same mark for the past two months, but no one was about to tell _him_ that.

"Is that right?" she snorted, grinning. "Well. You might just grow to be taller than Ironhide, huh?"

"Yep!"

"Bah," the older mech grunted, scowling darkly at his mate. She smirked and patted his cheek before exiting through the door. He sighed and stretched widely, getting to his feet and placing Optimus on the ground. "Well, Ah'm hittin' th' shootin' range. Wanna come, squirt?"

"Yeah!" Optimus enthused, but winced at Ratchet's cold glare. "But just to _watch_, Ratchet, I promise not to use any guns!"

"And you had better promise not to give him any," Ratchet added, frowning at Ironhide, who grimaced.

"Ah promise, okay?"

"…Fine. You'd better stand by your word, Ironhide, or Sentinel'll have a fit."

"Wha' abou' 'im?" Ironhide demanded, pointing at the bouncing youngling at his feet, but no answer was needed. Sentinel could never get mad at Optimus, it simply wasn't in his programming.

_**Shooting Range**_

"Ya hold it like this," Ironhide instructed, lifting Optimus's arms slightly. "Face level. Don' close off one optic, tha's how ah lotta mechs miss easy shots. Stare ahead real clearly, focus, an' pull th' triggah when ya've got th' shot lined up per—"

Optimus pulled the trigger and fell on his butt due to the recoil. But the drone's head was blasted cleanly off.

"Nice shootin'!" Ironhide yelped as he helped the youngling up, clearly impressed. "Oh, but remembah not ta tell ol' Ratch abou' this one, righ'?"

"Right," Optimus replied, smiling and handing the firearm back to his guardian. "So am I good?"

"Yer ah natural," Ironhide said proudly, and Optimus beamed. "…Hey, Optimus."

"Yeah?"

"Have ya…had any nightmares lat'ly?"

"I had one last night," Optimus replied, kicking idly at the floor. "But it wasn't too bad. And then…oh man, Ironhide, it was the best ever! I had a dream about a femme!"

"A femme?"

"Yeah! She was totally pretty, and she was holding my hand and everything and we were totally happy and when she said my _name_, Ironhide, it sounded so good! She was just…gosh, she was fantastic," the youngling gushed, promptly sitting down on his butt. "I wish she was real."

"What'd she look like?"

"She was pink. Oh, and white. And…uh, I can't really remember, but Primus she was slaggin' gorgeous."

"Watch yer mouth."

"Sorry."

_**Commander's Office**_

"Hi!"

Sentinel Prime looked up and would've groaned if it hadn't been for the fact that it would've hurt the youngling's feelings. Optimus beamed at him, his little face just barely peeking over the desk. "Can I come up?"

"I suppose so," Sentinel sighed, shifting a stack of paperwork and helping the youngling clamber onto the desk. Optimus settled his butt down on the edge, swinging his legs back and forth.

"So."

"So."

"I had a dream about a femme last night."

"Really."

"Yeah. She was really pretty."

"I'm glad."

Optimus frowned slightly; never before had his father figure been so inattentive. "Hey, Sentinel?"

"Hm?"

"Are ya mad at me for something?"

Prime looked up, frowning. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You're ignoring me."

"I'm talking to you right now."

"Well, yeah, but…"

Sentinel sighed and got up, extending a hand to the youngling as he did so. Optimus hopped off the desk and clutched his guardian's large fingers, obediently following the commander outside the office and onto the balcony.

"Look," Sentinel said, indicating the view. "What do you see?"

Optimus shrugged. "A city."

"Wrong," Prime said, lifting the youngling and placing him on the railing. "It's an organism. A living, breathing machine, all one unit. We function together, we live together, we suffer and rejoice together…at least, this is how it used to be. Now, we are separate. We can no longer see each other as Transformers. We see Autobots, Decepticons, Dinobots, Terrorcons, drones, mechs, femmes…"

"Isn't that…what we are?"

"No, Optimus, it is not. We are all of Cybertron. We are all the children of Primus. When you can see that, you shall be ready to assume the position of commander, and teach others to see it as well. If you cannot see that we are all one, then you shall never be ready to shoulder the mantle of leadership."

Optimus blinked. "But…how do I make myself see it, Sentinel?"

"Over time, it'll become apparent. You will begin to figure it out, Optimus, I promise you that. It shall come to you gradually, as you grow, as you begin to learn…as you find someone to believe in, and someone to believe in you in return."

"…Like…?"

"Do you have anyone who believes in you right now?"

Optimus hesitated. He'd asked himself the very same question many times…and not once had he come to a conclusion. The mechs within Autobot City seemed fond of him…many even loved him. Of that he was reasonably sure. But did one of them honestly, truly believe that he had the ability to go all the way? That someday, somehow, that fragile little youngling would be ready to assume the position of leader?

"…Do I?" Optimus asked helplessly, looking up at his father figure.

Sentinel smiled and lifted the little one into his arms, cuddling him against his chest. "I believe in you, Optimus. Really I do. I believe you have potential…you have ability, vast as the stars. You will make something great of yourself."

_I believe in you, little one._

And as the great steel planet turned from the sun, though he wasn't sure why, Optimus cried.

_**Sparring room**_

_**The equivalent of five earth years later…**_

"Fastah, kid, fastah! Move yer feet, don' stop!"

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

"Well, push yerself then!"

"I _am!_"

Ironhide sprang forward, one hand reaching out towards his opponent. On pure, carefully honed reflexes the youngling called Optimus leapt backwards, digging his toes in to stop his movement. The desperate brake nearly threw him off balance, and he pin wheeled for a moment before bringing his heels down and adjusting his weight.

"Thought ya were gonna take yerself ou' there fer ah second," Ironhide snorted, and Optimus scowled.

"Shut up, I'm trying, okay?"

"Okay, okay…brace yerself, kid, Ah'm not holdin' back!"

"Fine by me, Rusty."

Ironhide launched, two tons flying at the smaller mech. There was no room to move back this time, he'd hit the wall…but…Optimus ran sideways in a kind of awkward shuffle, and with an almighty thud Ironhide slammed into the wall. There was a kind of frozen silence until he fell down, landing hard on his aft. Optimus swallowed a giggle so fast it hurt.

"Not bad, kid," he said, getting up and swaying somewhat. "Not bad at all…not gonna be good enough, tho'!"

"Whoa!" Optimus yelped as he was abruptly knocked to the floor, Ironhide's massive hands pressing down hard on his shoulders. Both fell down hard, the resulting impact actually making the door rattle on its track. Optimus struggled to lift himself, but Ironhide's knees held down his legs, his hands still latched upon his shoulders. While the young mech thrashed helplessly, Ironhide adjusted his grip and released his left arm cannon, holding it to the side of Optimus's head.

"Bam," he said, grinning, and Optimus's body relaxed.

"I give."

"Hey, yer dead. Ya don' get ta choose."

"I've been dead about ten times this week. I have a new sympathy for dead people. They deserve a say."

Ironhide laughed and got up, extending a hand to pull Optimus to his feet. "Ya did bettah this time, Ah'll give ya tha'."

"Still not good enough," Optimus sighed, brushing off his armor. The youngling had actually begun to grow in the past few orns, and his armor had almost completely developed. Bright red and blue plates replaced the tiny gray cables and cords that had once made up the little one's exterior. Optimus now stood level with Ironhide's abdomen, a feat he was extremely proud of. As Chromia constantly reminded her mate, the youngling really might grow to be taller than him. Understandably, Ironhide had the tendency to hide in his quarters when such reminders were thrown at him.

"Ya'll get bettah, Optimus, Ah promise," Ironhide said fondly, hooking an arm around the youngling's shoulders and rubbing his knuckles against his head.

"Ow! Ironhide—ow!—cut it out, that _hurts!_"

"Throw me off if it hurts tha' much!"

"I can't! Ironhide, seriously!"

"Ironhide? What are you _doing_ to him?"

The weapons specialist (and Optimus, with some difficulty) looked up to see none other than Sentinel Prime standing before them, an extremely bouncy Megatron hanging off his arm.

"Interesting," Prime said, smiling very slightly. "My captain trying to kill my son. This is new."

"Ah'm not killin' 'im, sir, Ah swear," Ironhide said solemnly, releasing the youngling quickly.

"Yeah, right," Optimus muttered, rubbing his neck plates. "Hey, Megs."

"Hi!" Megatron said brightly, waving ecstatically. "Didja just get your aft whooped, big brother?"

"Yup," Ironhide said proudly, and Optimus deflated slightly, scowling. "He didn' stand ah chance. And watch your language."

"Sowwy."

Optimus frowned and looked up at his 'father'. "I thought Ratchet fixed the speech thing."

"That makes two of us," Sentinel growled, and Optimus laughed. The leader's spark warmed at the sound; happy, carefree, _alive._ With a chuckle he patted the youngling's head. "Will you watch your brother for a little while? There's a call in Decagon for me, I have to attend to it."

"Yeah, sure. C'mere, squirt."

With a squeal Megatron launched forward, latching himself firmly to his older brother's leg. "Play!"

"Come on, Megs, aren't you a little old for that?" Optimus sighed, reaching down and lifting his sibling with some difficulty.

"No!"

"Let him live a little while he's still so young," Sentinel said gently. "Here in a few orns he'll be joining the military, and there's no fun in that."

"He'll be excited about it," Optimus replied, tickling his little brother until the almost-youngling yelped for mercy. "Won't you, Meggy?"

"It's _Megatron!_" the little one said, immediately sticking out his lower lip in a heavily practiced pout. "Megatron, Megatron, _Megatron!_"

"Alright, alright, cool your jets," Optimus groaned, rolling his optics. He turned to Sentinel, concern flashing across his faceplates. "When will you be back?"

"Just as soon as I can," Sentinel promised, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Will you watch base for me?"

"…Okay," Optimus said regretfully, looking somewhat dejected. Sentinel lifted his hand to stroke the youngling's face before nodding briskly to Ironhide, then turning on his heel and heading out the door. With a heavy sigh Optimus placed his brother upon the ground (which heralded some protestant squawks) and straightened, stretching widely. "Whatcha wanna do, Meggy?"

"_It's Megatron_!"

"Whatever."

_**Decagon**_

"Sentinel?" Commander Avalon said, looking surprised at the Autobot leader's abrupt appearance at Decagon's doorstep. "What…what brings you here, sir?"

Sentinel's spark stopped cold. "What?"

"Well, I mean…you aren't out here often. I was just wondering if you had business out here…it's a long way from Autobot City, after all."

"You…didn't you…?…I received a notice…I was sent a message that stated that you had urgent need of my help," Sentinel almost whispered, terror pulsing through his circuits.

Avalon frowned. "I don't recall sending any such message, sir."

Sentinel stared. The panic surfaced, it clutched at his spark. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. A false message. The message had been false. A trick, a sham. Something to lure him away from base…

Oh Primus.

Base.

The city.

His comrades.

Optimus.

"No," he breathed, and tore out the door without a single look back.

_**Autobot City**_

_**Military headquarters**_

Optimus moaned. It hurt…it hurt too much to move. He felt his younger brother stir beneath him, crying softly…the youngling attempted to stand and fell with a yelp…the pain was everywhere, it was everything, it drowned out the sounds of battle above…

"Oh Primus," Ironhide whispered, kneeling at the injured youngling's side. "Optimus…hang on, lil' buddy, hang on…Ratchet! Where are ya, ya useless piece o' slag?!"

"That was rude," Ratchet said curtly, and Ironhide could feel the frown even through the comm. link.

"Listen, ya need ta getcher aft down here, Optimus is hurt bad!"

"What?" the medic asked sharply, his attitude changing immediately.

"His leg…Primus, Ratch, th' poor kid…"

"Just tell me what's wrong!"

"His left leg. Everythin' below the knee…it's gone, Ratch, clean ripped off."

From his perch several floors above, Ratchet swayed slightly, unexplainable nausea washing over him. "All of it? Below the knee? _Gone_?" he asked weakly.

"Tha's wha' Ah said, jus' get down here!" Ironhide roared, his voice shaking. "He'll leak ta death, Ratchet!"

"…I'm coming. Try to keep him conscious."

"Okay, jus' hurry…" Ironhide switched off the comm. link and hefted the youngling out of the debris of the destroyed room, careful of his mutilated leg. "Hey. Optimus. Can ya hear me?"

"…Hurts…" Optimus whimpered, his optics fluttering. "Hurts…"

"Ah know, Ah know," Ironhide soothed, resting the young one upon the floor. "Jus' hang in there…Megatron! Are ya hurt, kiddo?"

The sparkling shook his head fast, his optics wide with fear and locked upon his older brother's injury. "Opt…"

"He's okay," Ironhide said quickly, lifting the sparkling from the ruins. "Okay, listen up, ya two. We've got Decepticahns all ovah th' place, an' we don' 'ave th' forces ta drive 'em ou'. So we're jus' gonna focus on gettin' ya outta here, ya got it? We'll send ya ta Iacon, ya'll be safe there."

"Ironhide…" Optimus whispered, looking up at his guardian. "I-I wanna stay…"

"Sorry, Opt," Ironhide replied quietly, lifting the youngling in his arms. "Ya gotta go. Yer th' Autobots' only hope. Ya gotta live, an' tha' migh' not happen here."

"Where's Sentinel?"

"Hopefully haulin' his aft back here. Now, let's go, we don' got much time. Megs, ya're gonna hafta run. Fast, okay? Keep up with me, Ah gotta carry yer brothah."

Megatron nodded mutely, sniffling. In the middle of battle he'd much rather be safe in Ironhide's arms, but Optimus couldn't walk. Obviously. And somewhere in the back of his very confused cerebral processor, Megatron decided that right now his brother was priority. He came second. The small sparkling came after Optimus. Always had, always would.

Maybe that was when the warlord within him began to stir. Maybe, at that moment, as Ironhide put him second, the jealousy welled up, ready to break the surface. Maybe that was when Megatron first looked upon his elder brother as a rival rather than a friend. Maybe…if Ironhide had found another way…none of it would have ever happened. Maybe the envy would have always remained buried beneath the love, the friendship that only brotherhood can bring.

But such details…are lost to time.

For the time being, Ironhide ran. Optimus and Megatron had been asleep when the first shots had been fired, when the energon-based bomb had been dropped. In what seemed like mere seconds base was virtually torn apart, ripped in two, as Decepticons swarmed in. Gunfire roared overhead, heating Optimus's armor as he bobbed helplessly in Ironhide's arms.

Suddenly, the world exploded. One shot from a fusion cannon sent Ironhide flying, made him drop his precious cargo to the floor, and he was soon to follow. The shockwave was enough to make Megatron collapse immediately, unconscious. Gasping in pain, Optimus lifted himself shakily, struggling to see through the debris. Heavy footsteps alerted him to the steady approach of their attacker. Panic swelling in his spark, he wormed forward, the awful pain in his left leg bringing tears to his optics.

"Ironhide," he whispered, reaching out to touch his guardian's arm. "Ironhide…?"

The giant mech did not stir. His spark pulsing frantically, Optimus pulled himself closer. His optics widened; the cannon had blown a hole clean through Ironhide's abdomen, leaving an ugly exit wound in his front. Energon poured onto the floor, pooling beneath the dying mech.

"No…" Optimus breathed, the energon seeping out to reach his fingertips. "Ironhide…Ironhide! No, no! Ironhide, please, wake up, wake up! Ironhide!"

He stood—and fell, landing heavily in the pool. It splashed over his armor, covered him almost completely, and his own energon flowed from his wound to mingle with his guardian's…becoming one…

"Don't go," Optimus whispered, his voice choked with sobs as he reached out to clutch Ironhide's fingers. "Don't leave me…please…you promised…you promised you'd stay with me…_you promised…_"

The Decepticon was upon them. Optimus turned very slightly, his terror dulled by the ache in his spark.

"I thought I recognized you," the attacker growled, his red optics alive with hate. "You're on every Decepticon hit list on the planet. The heir to the Matrix of Leadership, eh? Well, it won't be a problem anymore…youngling or not, you're gonna die right here! Rot in Pit, Autobot!"

Optimus turned to Ironhide. He burned the image into his memory; he'd take it with him to…wherever he was bound for next. And he'd wait…he'd wait for his brother and his guardian and…and Sentinel…the youngling closed off his optics as the finger upon the trigger tightened…

A single energon charge struck the Decepticon right between the optics. There was a long pause, the sounds of the battle seemed muted—and, slowly, he fell, dead, landing upon the floor with a crash. His killer stepped forward and lifted the injured youngling in his arms, closing one hand over the wound in his leg to stem the leaking, Optimus's agonized cry tearing at his spark.

"Shhh…it's okay, little one. It's okay," said Alpha Trion.

. E N D . T R A N S M I S S I O N .

**I originally had no intention of leaving a cliffy…but it's late so suck it up. This was a long chapter. Kind of. Three thousand six hundred some words, it's not bad. So seriously, deal with it. Please enjoy, please review, in that order.**


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